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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717452">Last Breath</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorandre1228/pseuds/professorandre1228'>professorandre1228</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cas did not make it in time, Surprise Ending, death is not always the end, what if</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:48:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,251</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorandre1228/pseuds/professorandre1228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Cas was delayed somehow? What if he had not made it back to the bunker in time?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I Can't Do This Alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Here’s the thing. I’m lucky. Oh Hell, I’m blessed!  ‘Cause there’s just enough demon left in me that killing you?  Ain’t no choice at all.”  Dean’s dark smirk accompanied his declaration as he finished breaking through the door Sam had attempted to lock him behind.  His younger brother had taken off, terror leaking behind him with ever rapid exhale.  “Come on, Sammy!  Let’s have a beer, talk about it.”  With a tilt of his head, he listened for his human brother.  There was very little in the way of movement as they had both been trained on how to be truly stealthy, but he could hear Sam panting, not quite quietly enough, down the right corridor, so he smiled to himself and moved in that direction.</p><p>A few more turns and quiet movement, he wanted to laugh out loud when he saw Sam with his back to him down the corridor.  The taller man peered around the corner, unaware that his own demon brother, the one he was watching for, was coming up behind him silently.  Sam pressed himself back against the wall, still facing toward the other corridor, heaving for breath.  Dean paused only long enough to let his smile overtake his entire face before he swung the hammer, aiming for the younger man’s head.</p><p>Sam, who had also been trained as a hunter, must have felt the movement of the air or heard the laugh he thought he’d hidden, but he’d realized Dean was behind him and turned, ducking in the process.  And just in time, as the hammer brushed the long, chestnut hair, breezing by and buried itself in the corridor wall.  Before Dean had really processed that he had missed, he felt the edge of the demon-killing blade at his throat.  Sam had brought it up as he ducked, a defensive move that spoke volumes for his experience.  But the blade did not slice, an indication of Sam’s conscience still holding onto curing him, giving the demon a sharp nudge of humor.  He released the hammer and held his arms out, still smiling. </p><p>“Well… look at you,” he said happily. “Do it. It’s all you.”  Sam’s eyes swam with unshed tears, not spilling over, his skin shone with sweat as he heaved in fearful breaths.  The arm that held up the Kush blade barely tremored, the other still trapped in the sling from whatever injury the younger hunter had gotten while hunting down Crowley and Dean.  It was the sad look in those color-changing eyes that told the demon what he already knew.</p><p>Sam had flinched at Dean’s command, but after a short pause, where he appeared to weigh his heart with his logic, Sam had taken in a deep, shaky breath, then let the knife fall to the floor.  Dean nearly chuckled, his eyes going black as the demon side of him took front and center.  One last step forward, with a growl, and his hands were around Sam’s long throat, perfect for his chosen method to end this quickly.  The fear ramped up in his brother’s face, the one he had raised from an infant, as Dean’s hands slipped from choking, to gripping his jaw with one and the back of his skull with the other.  Sam had gotten out one gasp before the snap.</p><p>Before Metatron had killed him, before the mark had pulled him from death and demonized his soul, the previous times that he had watched his younger brother die, he had been devastated.  This time, as the life fled from Sam’s eyes, the taller man's last emotion more disbelief than fear, all he felt was the lifting of decades of the burden of protecting Sammy.  The body dropped, a sudden weight in his hands and he released it, watching the corpse of the last of his old life crumple with nothing to direct it anywhere but down. It wasn’t until he heard the last exhalation forced from the body as it thudded to the floor that he let his arms fall and looked down at the akimbo pile of limbs, nothing more than cloth, flesh, and bones that would eventually rot.</p><p>There was a sudden, deep silence in the bunker, as he himself no longer needed to breath and nothing else was moving.  Dean listened to the peace for a few long moments, listening for any last minute rescue that might have come, albeit too late this time.  But there was nothing.  He contemplated the sling a moment, for the arm that would now never heal.  The un-encumbered arm had fallen away from the body, the hand landing at the side of one of his shoes. </p><p>He took in the open, staring eyes, seeing that the tears from before had escaped, but no more would be coming.  Would those hazel eyes continue to change color as the body rotted or forever remain in their current state of forest green, with a tinge of pale blue on the outer edge and light brown circling the pupil?  For a moment, he was curious enough to consider returning in the future just to find out. But then the stillness began to grate on him. He bent to grab the Kush blade from where it had fallen and stepped over the corpse with a grunt and headed for the garage, to grab a car and return to his Knight of Hell unlife. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Everything Has Gone Wrong</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cas returns too late.  Sam returns for one last mission.  Crowley is on the run from the knight of hell he created.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The silence in the bunker had been maintained for several days, the most it had been this quiet since the Winchesters were introduced to it, when the first sound came on the flutter of wings. </p><p>“Sam!” the voice called out and it echoed in the empty corridors.  There was the flapping of the familiar trenchcoat and stutter of leather dress shoes as the intruder upon the silence quickly jogged the byways looking for his friends.  He had been on the way to the bunker to assist Sam, having heard Sam’s frantic prayers in his head, but a group of rogue angels had waylaid him.  He’d tried to talk to them calmly and get himself released in peace until Sam’s last gasped prayer had cut off suddenly in his head. </p><p>It had been enough to make him frantic, which derailed the negotiations for a while.  Finally, he’d talked half of the group over to his side and they’d helped him escape.  His first stop had been where he’d last heard Sam and where he expected to find him. What he had not expected was the silence.  While angels did not need to breath, their vessels did it on instinct, a memory of a behavior before the possession.  Thus, Cas’ breaths were there, steady and gentle.  Until he rounded the corner to the final scene of the battle of the brothers.</p><p>“Oh, Sam,” he whispered, kneeling beside the crumpled corpse.  The magic in the bunker that kept it clean and kept everything in it ageless had maintained Sam’s body. His eyes had clouded over somewhat, the tears long dried, but the body itself appeared as though freshly fallen.  Cas reached a hand to touch the now bunker-temperature forehead, feeling the empty vessel, devoid of even a remnant of life or soul. </p><p>“Cas,” said a quiet voice from behind him, causing the dark-haired angel to spin around, angel blade dropping into his hand as he put himself between the voice and the corpse, still defending his friend, even though he no longer needed defending.  His watery blue eyes swept the corridor, catching and trying to settle on a shimmer not far from him. </p><p>He rose to his feet and narrowed his eyes, working to get the shimmer to settle.  It took a moment, but it finally coalesced into the form of the dead man at his feet.  Having seen the body, Castiel had known Sam was dead and gone, but seeing his ghost standing in the hallway, looking gaunt and wane, he felt the sorrow bubble in his chest.  He let the angel blade fall to his side and took a shaky step towards the spirit.</p><p>“Sam, I’m so sorry,” he began, but Sam merely shook his head sadly, with a sigh. </p><p>“Where were you?” The question was quiet and lacked any actual accusation, but Cas felt it anyway. He blinked, stuttering.</p><p>“I…I, uh, was captured,” he began, glancing back at the body, then back at the ghost of his friend.  “I tried, Sam. I tried so hard to get here when I heard your prayer.”  Sam softly smiled briefly and nodded.</p><p>“I’m glad you’re okay.” The spirit flickered, then walked closer, sidestepping the angel to peer down at his own corpse.  He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I was hoping I was hallucinating all this or dreaming.”  Cas frowned but nodded. </p><p>“Was it…was it Dean?” he asked, dreading but knowing the answer. Sam glanced at him as the hand in his hair drifted down to his neck to rub it roughly.</p><p>“Yeah, he, uh, escaped the devil’s trap because he was so close to being cured that it couldn’t hold him completely.  Then he came looking for me.”  Sam crouched down next to his own body, eyes roaming over it sadly.  “There was just enough, uh, demon there, though, that he, uh, didn’t even flinch when he snapped my neck.”  Cas stood beside the ghost.</p><p>“Sam, I don’t have the power to bring you back,” the angel said looking down at his own hands. Sam stood up and turned to face him. </p><p>“I’m not asking you to.  I need you to help me seal the bunker away from the demons and angels and then burn my body.” He took a deep breath, a reflex from his time with working lungs. “Dean’s gone.  He murdered me without a second thought.  No hesitation.  You’re needed in Heaven and I’m…I’m done.”  Cas blinked in surprise.</p><p>“Sam-,” he started, but Sam lifted a hand to stop him.</p><p>“No, Cas. I have one last job and it’s to keep that bastard Crowley, and, uh, now Dean, out of here. And no offense, Cas, but your brothers and sisters need to be kept out too.  While I’m here, that will be my goal.  We can let whoever remains know to watch out for him, but they’ll kill him if they can. Not try to cure him.” They shared a sad glance, then Sam flickered again. “The magic in here helped me make contact but it’s still not perfect. I have to go recharge a bit.”</p><p>“What should I do with…?” the dark-haired angel gestured at the corpse.</p><p>“You can put it in my bedroom. Not like I’ll be using it anymore.” As Cas hummed in response, Sam flickered again. “Thanks Cas. I’ll, uh, see you later.”  And with that, he flickered and disappeared.</p><p>The angel swallowed his sorrow, bending to his task of carrying his friend’s body to lie in state in his room until it could be burned.</p><p>*****</p><p>There was chaos and mayhem in the bar as Dean, eyes pitch black, drew back the ass’s jawbone and sliced hither and thither into the demons that came his way.  After killing Sam and leaving the corpse to rot inside the bunker he had once called home, he had gone to Hell to lay claim to the throne, declaring war on the demon, namely Crowley, who had sold him out to the now deceased hunter, and any demons who did not immediately swear loyalty to him.  It had been fun hunting, chasing, and killing those that spoke or worked against him.  Crowley was in deep hiding and had been as soon as he’d gotten the report of Dean leaving the bunker, not cured.</p><p>The knight of hell, Alistair’s star pupil, the “best hunter in the world” by most accounts, was out for Crowley’s blood, soul, and seat.  And the dapper little demon was sweating bullets as he teleported randomly, trying to stay ahead of the furious Dean Winchester, and also trying to plan how to stop the trajectory he had inadvertently set the man on when he mistakenly tricked him into taking on the Mark of Cain.  He berated himself constantly about how he could have possibly thought he could ever control the sometimes irrational, always impulsive man. </p><p>When he’d finally run out of ‘secret hideouts’ that apparently were no longer secret, he ran to the one place he knew Dean would never find him.  With a silent curse, he teleported into the bunker, expecting to find a distraught Sam ready to shank him.  What he never expected was to find Castiel sitting quietly next to Sam’s corpse in the silence.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So much more is coming.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Line of Communication</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley latches onto Sam's previous failed summoning.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ah, Moose,” Crowley said mournfully once the realization hit him.  Castiel stood quickly and whirled to face him, angel blade out.  While he had not wept, his face was drawn and pale.  Seeing the demon who had led Dean to the Mark, who had raised him from his death and taken him on as a demon apprentice, who had caused the death of Sam Winchester at the hand of his own brother, Castiel growled and slashed out. The shock at seeing Sam’s corpse slowed Crowley’s responses and he threw himself backwards, the blade slicing through the front of his jacket, not quite nicking his vessel’s skin.</p><p>“Crowley,” Castiel snarled, squaring his shoulders and stepping between the demon and the corpse.  “You are NOT turning Sam into a demon too.” Crowley gave the angel a look of incredulity. </p><p>“His soul is not in Hell and he does not have the Mark of Cain, a rather unique curse, may I remind you.  Ipso facto, I cannot do anything to the dead behemoth except mess with his meat suit and honestly?” Crowley growled out, dusting his suit off. “Without that pesky soul, the only thing that still interests me about Sam Winchester is how, even dead, his hair looks like a shampoo commercial.”  He smirked at the angel as they both backed down. Once he knew Cas wasn’t going to outright shiv him, he moved to stand next to the body and looked down in almost melancholia.  “I had been hoping Dean was lying when he said he’d killed the poor sod, but I guess it just proves how badly I mucked it all up.”</p><p>Cas’ brow furrowed as he heard the demon sigh sadly. </p><p>“You actually regret helping Dean become a Knight of Hell?” The demon rolled his eyes and sighed, turning to face Cas.</p><p>“Yes, turns out the flannel nightmare needed his brother to keep him balanced.” He glared at Sam’s corpse.  “Turns out, with Moose dead, Squirrel has gone guano.  He’s slaughtered almost all of my minions, laid claim to my throne, put a bounty on my head, as well as any angels on earth, and is an unkillable, unstoppable force who is hell bent, pun intended, on taking over the world for his own pleasure.  With God out of the picture, all of the archangels either dead or locked away, there’s no one to stop him. Who’d have thought the overgrown brainiac would be the key to saving the world?”</p><p>“Everyone except you,” Cas responded, settling back into his chair, sliding the blade back into his sleeve.  “Why do you think Dean killed him?  He knew Sam was the only one who could really stop him.”</p><p>“And now the guard dog on steroids and demon juice has slipped his collar,” Crowley muttered. </p><p>“You need to leave,” Cas told him. “I don’t even know how you got in here since I warded the bunker against anything demonic, even Dean.”  Crowley turned to look at him with a smirk.</p><p>“Let’s just say it was an open line of communication.”  The confused look the angel tossed his way made him roll his eyes. “Sam summoned me for answers after Dean died, but I bypassed stopping in the dungeon where he had a trap set and visited Dean, waiting for him to rise as a demon so I could take his leash, so to speak.  As I never officially answered Sam’s summons-.”</p><p>“You decided to take advantage of my hospitality to help you sort out the mess you made.”  Crowley cringed, closing his eyes as he turned.  Upon opening them, he saw Sam’s spirit squared up in anger.  There was the unmistakable tingle of EMF across Crowley’s skin.</p><p>“Hello, Gigantor,” he said.  “You’re looking…”</p><p>“Transparent? Ghastly? Or would that be ‘ghostly’, Crowley?” Sam replied.  The demon gave a sad smile and looked down at his hands. </p><p>“Love the puns, but I was going to say that you look very lively for being dead.” He looked back up and then around the room. “I take it the magic in the bunker…?” He gestured around the area.  When Sam didn’t respond, he nodded to himself. “I see.  Well, if you’ll allow me to hide out here until we figure out how to tame your brother, I’m sure I could find a way to bring you back.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Sam,” Cas pleaded softly.</p><p>“No, Cas. I told you. I’m done.” He whirled on Crowley. “You made this mess, got a lot of people hurt or killed, and now you think I’m just going help you out so you can take power back?” Sam’s ghostly shape crackled and shimmered as he stalked closer to the demon.  “I’m done. I’ve given my entire life to this asinine battle between Heaven and Hell. I’ve lost my entire family. I’ve lost people I loved.  I died, more than once. I spent centuries in the Cage as Lucifer and Michael’s favorite chew toy.  Dean’s given everything too.” The ghost expanded, taking up more space in the room.  There was a breeze picking up and anything not heavy enough was beginning to shift.  Crowley stepped all the way back against the wall.  Even Castiel looked at Sam in concern.  </p><p>“Now, I have one task left, then I’m going somewhere else. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory. Don’t know, but I don’t want to be here to watch Dean destroy everything I’ve fought to save again and again.  I’m tired and angry and I want to rest.  Just…just GO AWAY!”</p><p>The ghost of Sam Winchester raised a hand, pointing it at the demon, and a glow burst from the palm of his hand.  As the glow struck Crowley, the entire room burst into a screech and a boom, with a blast of bright light.  Cas, who was powerful enough to view angelic true forms, had to cover his eyes.  When it was quiet again and he felt it dim in the room, he looked around himself.  Everything except himself and Sam’s body was strewn about the room in chaos.  And Crowley was gone.  Sam’s spirit had diminished and was flickering next to the bed, looking down at his own corpse. </p><p>“Sam.”</p><p>“I closed the line of communication, Cas,” the ghost said. “Now, only you and I can come and go from the bunker without godlike powers. I’ll be back later.  It’s almost time to seal the bunker so I can rest.”  There was a brief smile and then he flickered out. </p><p>Cas breathed deeply to catch his breath and slumped into the chair in defeat. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Change of Plans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dean didn't expect his brother's ghost.  His worst mistake.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cas finished added the last spell ingredient to the brass bowl and sighed.  He looked around the library, probably for the last time.  He and Sam had researched for the last few days as Dean, his demon followers, and other angels had battered against the bunker’s warding to get inside.  It had held so far, but Sam believed this last spell should seal it for good, hiding the bunker for all of eternity.  The plan was to complete the spell, burn Sam’s corpse and make sure his ghost was no longer lingering, then use the sigil on himself to shunt himself outside of the bunker.  He had no clue where he’d end up, but he’d be far from the forces outside and he’d then be able to rejoin his angel brethren in searching for a way to reopen Heaven. </p><p>“How’s it going, Cas?” Sam’s ghost asked as he appeared next to the angel.  Cas huffed.</p><p>“I’ve finished all the calls, including everyone you had in your contact list on your phone. They were all very upset that you are dead, shocked that it was Dean that did it, and terrified of Dean coming after them.  I gave them all the instructions to ward against demons, even Dean, should he bother tracking them down.” He leaned on the table with his head down. “Are you sure this is the only way, Sam? I mean, I’ve never known you to just give up like this.”</p><p>“And the spell I gave you?  Is it ready to go?” Sam asked without responding to Cas’ pleas.  The angel huffed again then gestured at the bowl and the piece of paper on the table beside it. </p><p>“Yes, it’s ready, but Sam-,” Cas asked again, looking at his friend sadly.  Sam shook his head. </p><p>“Cas, I have one last change to the plan, but it’s risky.  To you. I understand if you don’t want to try it, but I think it’ll be one last hail mary.”  The angel regarded Sam.  The ghost had not faded or flickered. It had not gone enraged again.  But it still looked defeated and sad. </p><p>“What do you have in mind?”  Sam smiled, reaching out a hand to brush over Cas’ arm. </p><p>“One small alteration.” </p><p>*****</p><p>“Grrraaaaaaahhhh!” Demon Dean growled and howled outside the bunker door.  He had only a few lesser demons with him, having left the remaining minions behind to keep Crowley from sneaking back in to try to retake the throne while he hunted down Castiel.  In his last close encounter with the former King of Hell, Crowley had let it slip that he’d broken into the bunker and found Castiel hiding out there, protecting Sam’s corpse.  Dean was sure Crowley had done it on purpose to distract him long enough to escape.  It had worked, but Dean had no doubt their next encounter wouldn’t end with Crowley’s survival.   </p><p>He'd not thought about Sam since the day he’d killed him, leaving the corpse to rot in the corridor of the bunker.  But Castiel, he had obsessed over.  The angel that had been his friend in life had helped his brother capture him and attempt to cure him back to human.  Crowley was high on his kill list, but Castiel was even higher.  The angel was persona non grata amongst his own kind so it made sense that he’d hide out where he’d thought he’d be safe.  Crowley hadn’t told Dean how or why he’d left the bunker, but had told him that he’d never get in.</p><p>Dean, enraged and obsessed, took up the challenge and had spent the last three days pounding against the bunker’s warding.  He’d enlisted some other powerful demons, as well as witches to break through, but nothing had made a dent.  Today, for the first time, he’d felt a slight change.  Just on the other side of the main door, there was a small crack in the warding.  And he was going to break it wide open.  First, he’d kill Castiel, then he’d destroy any of the warding that kept out demons.  He’d desecrate Sam’s corpse if it was still there, maybe have it crucified in his precious library, before throwing a massive party and claiming the bunker as his personal castle.  He was pretty sure he remembered Sam mentioning as a joke once how he’d found a spell in one off the books that would open the back wall of the dungeon up into Hell so they could just waltz in and scare the crap out of Crowley every now and again.</p><p>Back then, it had been a ‘bad idea’, but with a lack of a conscience, it was now a great idea to Dean.  But he had to get inside first. </p><p>The witches had been sent away as useless earlier, but Dean felt the warding change at the door as he slammed the First Blade into the metal, felt it crumble a little, then the door creaked and fell open.  He crowed and chortled, then called to his minions to follow him inside.  Stopping at the top of the metal stairs, he looked down to see his brother’s corpse laid out on the library table.  At the end of the table, by his head, was a brass bowl and a couple of sheets of parchment.  Off to the side, next to one of the pillars stood Castiel, his hand reaching for a book.  The look of surprise on his face was priceless. </p><p>Dean leap over the railing and landed neatly on the floor of the map room, the four minions he’d brought with him, following close behind.  He heard the bunker door shut, and stopped.  He half turned, but then turned back towards Cas with a cold smile, his black eyes meeting Cas’ blue ones.</p><p>“Closing the door behind us, Cas?” Dean called mockingly.  “How hospitable of you.”  He glanced down at Sam’s corpse, no longer a jumble of limbs, but composed, sling gone, arms laid by his side, eyes closed.  “Taking care of my little brother for me.  Or what’s left of him.  That’s very sweet.  I guess you tried to bring him back, eh?  Didn’t work?” He took another step into the library, reaching the end of the table, near enough to reach out with the First Blade and tap the top of Sam’s shoe.  “Should have just burned him.”</p><p>“Oh, he is,” a familiar voice to his right said.  Dean turned his head slowly, then his body followed.  Standing there next to one of the bookcases was Sam’s ghost.  “I missed you, Dean.” The eyes were infinitely sad as they looked at his older brother.</p><p>“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” the demon knight said, “Once upon a time, I’d have been able to say I knew you better than you knew yourself, but here you are, surprising me one last time.  Now, I could dance while your corpse burns and get the pleasure of watching your spirit burn away, like so many ghosts we’ve put to rest.  But I had a better idea while I had time being locked out.”  He walked over to stand directly in front of the little brother’s ghost, swinging the hand with the First Blade through him.  Sam flinched and gasped in surprised pain that he could feel pain as a ghost. Dean leaned back and chortled, causing his minions to laugh too.</p><p>“This just gets better and better. If I’d have known this blade could hurt your ghost, I’d have come back as soon as I found where Crowley had it hid.  I think that would have been way more fun than wasting time gutting all those people in the bars.”  He swiped through Sam’s ghost, eliciting another flinch and gasp.  “Let me get rid of the angel and we can go back to being brothers for eternity.” He winked wickedly as he turned, but Castiel was already slicing into his palm, muttering some words.  “Oh no you don’t,” Dean growled, running towards him. </p><p>The first drops of blood fell into the bowl, causing sparks to flare up.  Dean had reached the end of table as Cas slammed his hand down on one of the sheets of parchment. </p><p>“Goodbye, Dean,” Cas got out as the bright white light overtook them all and the angel was whisked away by the sigil.  Dean growled, knocking the bowl off the table, slamming it against the wall.  The sparks showered Dean and the room in the explosion, catching the entire table on fire.  Dean heard Sam laughing and spun around. </p><p>“Your angel got away, but you’re still mine to torture, little brother.” He turned back to try to put out the fire, but as it was a supernaturally created fire, he could not stop it.  It appeared to be confined to the table only, but began to consume Sam’s corpse.  “Nooooo!” The demon whirled to watch as the fire crept up around the ghostly form, as his spirit was being put to final rest.  Even as his ghost burned, Sam laughed.  “Why are you laughing?!”</p><p>“When you knocked the bowl off the table, it triggered the spell that pulled the entire bunker into a pocket dimension that only an archangel or God can access, and only if they know to look for it.  You are stuck here in the bunker for all eternity.  Cas got away and I don’t care where I end up.  As long as the world is safe from Dean Winchester, Knight of Hell.”  With his last breath, he laughed.  The fire flared up, eradicating Sam’s corpse and his ghost.  Inside the library, only Dean and his three minions remained. </p><p>“No.  No.  NOOOOO!” Dean screamed as he raced back up the stairs and pulled open the door to the bunker.  There was nothing beyond the door.  It was the black of utter nothingness.  He tried to dive through the door and was repelled back over the railing the land all the way back on the map table.  “Nooooooo!!” He railed and wailed and gnashed his teeth, slashing everything he could reach with the First Blade.  By the time he calmed himself enough to look around, he had killed his minions, slashed up the walls, gouging out chunks of concrete and metal, and there were sliced books and pages all over the room. </p><p>He raced through the bunker looking for exits.  No matter where he tried, all opened up on the nothingness and there was no escape.  His little brother had effectively locked him, the Mark of Cain, and the First Blade, away from the world.  Dean raged through the bunker, destroying anything he could find, only leaving the liquor untouched. It was as though he knew he was screwed and knew the liquor was limited and before long, it would just be him, alone in the silence, with not even a breath to break it. </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Final Twist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A final demon deal</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you think he’ll ever figure out what you really did?” Crowley asked as he sat on his throne, watching through Rowena’s spell, where Dean lay absolutely still and silent, not moving, not even a breath, in his bed in the bunker.  Sam, his soul reconstituted in Hell, sat on the floor next to the throne, his knees up, arms crossed at the top of his knees, and shrugged slowly. </p><p>“I doubt it,” he replied.  “He’s never been one to question reality, unless it was too good to be true.  I just made it too true to be good.  With a black soul, he’ll never stop to ask how I threw the entire bunker into the Empty.  This way, the bunker is sealed from the outside and he’s locked inside himself.  So no one can break him out and he cannot break himself out.  Six of one, half a dozen of another.” </p><p>Crowley hummed to himself and looked down at the giant man’s soul, curled in on itself. </p><p>“And Cas? Should I contact him for you? Maybe he can get you a ride upstairs.”  Sam glanced up with a half smile and a shake of his head.</p><p>“Nah, he’ll go back to Heaven and things will go back to pre-Winchester.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “I keep away from the throne of Hell and the demons stay away from me.  Deal?” He held out a hand to the demon King, who shook it after a moment, sighing one last breath. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As with a lot of my stories, this one caught me off guard and the characters took a direction I hadn't planned on.  I'll let them have this one.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Don't worry, there's more coming.  ;)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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